Berklee College of Music
by Kataangeraang
Summary: Katara enters an Ivy League school of Music, leaving her brother who got accepted to a different college in a different state. While Katara learns more about the arts and Sokka plays football on his scholarship, they learn that not everything is what they wish it was. Katara and Sokka meet other student who understand what it is to deal with loss. TOKKA AND KATAANG
1. Prologue -- Katara -- Part 1

**Berklee College of Music**

_Prologue (Part 1)_

You think that one day you would be able to talk about what happened to your mother (or father) when they died. Whether you're young or old, either way, it's hard. Whether they died from murder or a car crash or natural causes. But, it never is easy. I picked up the phone when I got home from Elementary School to hear the voice mall of a Cop telling me my mother was shot and they needed someone of legal age to identify the body. I just thought, 'Why couldn't they just look at her license?'

Someone stole her wallet after they shot her. And since we are the only family that had a different colored skin tone in the area, they automatically called us. I called my grandmother, who was at work at the time, and told her what happened. She left work immediately and came to pick up me and my brother, who just got home a few minutes from Middle School before GranGran pulled up. I was in shock as I sat in the Police Station. I remember my brother holding my hand and telling me everything was going to be alright. I never cried, from what my brother told me. My grandmother came out crying, holding my mother's possessions in a bag.

My grandmother took us home and sat with us on the couch, telling us about death. How it was unfair at times, but that everything happens for a reason. I still didn't cry. I don't remember crying ever since my mother died. Not when my dad came back home for the funeral, not at the funeral, not when my grandmother went up to speak and called me up to accept my mothers necklace, not even when my grandmother died on my birthday when I turned 16. You would think I would have cried by now. Seeing my brother cry didn't trigger it, seeing my brother about to move away to a college in another state didn't trigger it. Starting my third year of high school with two jobs, no car, and a one bedroom apartment that I had to share with my brother, I still didn't cry. When I graduated high school a year early, with my brother who graduated on time – I still didn't cry. Not happy nor sad tears. Our father couldn't even make it to our graduation because of an assignment the Marines had him do.

Than started college. I got accepted into an Ivy League Music college, Berklee College of Music in Boston while my brother got a full football scholarship to University of Florida in Gainesville. At the beginning of the summer we put our apartment up for sale and got a deal in early August, just in time for us to leave and get our dorms set up. We split the money in half and went our separate ways. I thought it would have been more emotional when I left. My brother didn't cry, I didn't cry. We drove in a taxi together to the Airport and said our goodbye and went different ways. I text him once and a while to see how he's doing, he replied only a few times than stopped replying at all at the end of summer.

I don't know whether to be sad about that or not. My brother and I were very close when we lived together. On nights that I had nightmares about seeing mom's body in the coffin he would sleep in my bed and hold me. On days he got into fights at school, I'd take care of his wounds. He was my best friend. I thought I was his too…guess not.


	2. Prologue -- Toph -- Part 2

**Berklee College of Music**

_Prologue (Part 2 - Toph)_

I'm not the same girl I was when I was young...well, young_er. _When I turned three the doctors said I had some rare genetic disease that made me lose my eye sight. Three years later, at the age of six, I woke up one morning and it was all gone. No blurriness, no weird colors or shapes, just darkness. I remember some colors, mostly blue, yellow and orange. I lived near the ocean and I went there a lot when I was little with my caretaker.

That sounded weird. I have parents, but they aren't there for me. So they hired someone to watch over me while they went around the world and did business with other countries. I stayed at home, sitting in my room, blasting angsty music, and listening to the screams and cries of my dying dreams. Sounds depressing right? Of course it is. My parents not only don't take care of me, but they also don't even know where I went/go to school.

My caretaker transferred me from a deaf and blind school to a regular school once I got state of the art hearing aids that I bought with the allowance I get. You're probably wondering how I can afford that. Well, my parents are rich. They are the richest family in Tokyo...at least that I know of. My parents shelter me from the world. Or at least they think they are sheltering me from the world. I've done more than they think. I've gotten into fights at school. I've done some drugs. I've been drinking since I was fifteen. They think that I'm still going to that damned disabled school. They know nothing about my life.

Once I turned eighteen I told my parents about the high school I graduated from. They sounded shocked. My caretaker told me that their faces were priceless. I told them that I was going to the States to attend a college that could help me with my studies. They yelled and screaming saying 'no no no' but in the end I left. I was my own person now, legal age. I already had the money to pay for a four year school. So I decided that I wanted somewhere that had a beach, was warm enough to get a tan, and had snow cones (I love those things). So I decided to go to Florida – University of Florida.

I don't know what I was going to major in yet. For now I would take the needed core classes until it was time to choose a major. When I knew I got into the college my caretaker took me straight there and helped me set up my dorm room. Since I was disabled I got an extra-large room that I could share with my caretaker. I didn't have to have anyone else stay with me. I got calls over and over from my parents telling me to come home and they would forgive me.

I really could just laugh at how pathetic they are acting. Why the hell should I go back? To be locked in my room, only to come out to eat or drink or take a shower. No, I wasn't going to be boxed in like that again. So I stuck at the school and couldn't wait for my first class.


End file.
